𝐒𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐖 | 𝟏𝟖+

xxxiii. ceasefire.

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‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐏𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐁𝐘 𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐍 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐓𝐔𝐌 𝐅𝐄𝐋𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐒. In that time, the province at war fell into silence. With the aid of witches' spells, the terrans vanished into thin air taking Ronyn along with them, leaving behind the dead to rot in were meadows.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Elowen huddles in the corner, her arms wrapped around her chest as a way to keep warm. Seeing so many lost lives made her lose her appetite and ability to feel warmth. Even Ember tried to reverse the chill in her bones by encapsulating her in a warming embrace. Instead, her glassed silver hues only watch the were that survived take their brethren out of the sanctum to be dealt with properly.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎She feels so useless, so out of place, just like the day when she first arrived.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎The sword strapped to her belt doesn't belong to her. It belonged to Wyett, a gamma who lost his life when the terrans infiltrated the palace. Her thoughts latch onto images of Valentina lying dead in the alleyway, knowing that the same fate could've belonged to her, or worse, Morrow.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎That same fate could be Ronyn, now lost in the clutches of the terrans.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Ember taps the bottom of Elowen's chin, forcing her glassed vision to meet her kind blue gaze. "It's hard to see, isn't it?"

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"To think this is how my ancestors died just years ago by the terrans," Elowen gulps. "Now it'll be the same for the were."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"We all made a grave mistake when Reovell fell to the terrans," Ember mutters. "I was hardly a teenager at the time when word spread of the bloodshed. The fae didn't want to intervene for fear we'd be overthrown just like the wyng. I think all the provinces feared it."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"I never had to see the bloodshed happen, though." The memories scathe by her vision, of her mother urgently ushering her into the wild before the cannonfire struck the mountainsides of the highlands. "I was lucky enough to flee before I saw it firsthand. Now, it's like I'm the only one."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"But you're not."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"I'm all that's left of Reovell, aren't I?"

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"I find that hard to believe that no other wyng are alive. I bet they're in hiding, just like you once were before the were found you. Hell, Morrow's got wings on him too and you're mated to him! That should be a sign, shouldn't it be?"

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Elowen's creature scampers around under her skin at the mention of Morrow, although his condition his hardly to be desired. When Arion and Elowen arrived at the sanctum, Thorn and a few were physicians managed to get him sedated. Thorn simply carried that large wolf in his arms, harnessing his immeasurable fae strength, and brought him back to his bedroom. No one can touch him for risk of getting the blight. Even Thorn will become a risk.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Ember weaves her dainty fingers between Elowen's. "You should visit him. He is your mate, and the were value that type of thing. Your presence might help him."